


Infernal Tune

by isingonly4myangel



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Flashback, PTSD, Post-Caligari Spell (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina), quarantine writing, reference to non consensual things, we deserved to see the aftermath of that but nooo we've got to write it ourselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26420554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isingonly4myangel/pseuds/isingonly4myangel
Summary: "The dance had been Hilda’s idea. Since the whole Satan fiasco, morale amongst the remainder of the coven had been low. Very low. Hilda, ever the caretaker, tried everything to lift people’s spirits. Once baked goods had failed, even with enchantment, she began to plan for the dance."Tumblr prompt response. When Zelda is asked to dance by a cheeky young warlock, it drags up memories of being under the Caligari Spell. Set after Part 2
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 19
Kudos: 105





	1. Melody

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone's interested, the piece they dance to is "Melting Waltz" by Abel Korzeniowski. Yes, I like my horror tv shows :) First story for CAOS, I'd love to hear people's thoughts!

The dance had been Hilda’s idea. Since the whole Satan fiasco, morale amongst the remainder of the coven had been low. Very low. Hilda, ever the caretaker, tried everything to lift people’s spirits. Once baked goods had failed, even with enchantment, she began to plan for the dance.

A week or two prior, Zelda had contacted the High Priests of two covens in New York City that had a reputation for being more liberal in their beliefs, to inform them of what had happened in Greendale. Both men had accepted her as the first High Priestess in history with relative ease, and though she was reluctant to show it, Zelda was delighted. So when creating a guest list, Hilda had written to them with a dual invitation for a face-to-face meeting as well as an evening of socialization with the Greendale coven.

Expecting the remaining members of the Greendale coven to be joined by a dozen or so members of the New York covens, Hilda spent days decorating and baking. Two days before the event, she and Zelda stood in the main hall at the Academy, making minor adjustments to decorations.

“What’ll we do about that… thing?” Hilda asked, gesturing to the statue in the centre of the space, now missing its head. It was one of only two tangible marks of Faustus Blackwood’s brief and twisted domain over the Church of Night, the other being his office within the building. Zelda had begun to clear it out the previous week, but had left almost as soon as she entered. She could not stand his lingering scent.

In response to Hilda’s question, the ginger-haired witch merely raised her left hand, palm facing the statue, and Hilda turned to look at Zelda as she felt her sister’s magic surge through the room. Slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, the neck of the statue began to melt. Dark grey droplets formed, dripping from the statue’s throat down to its shoulders. Before long, stone flowed as liquid, the statue becoming misshapen, drooping as it disintegrated.

Once the statue was no more than a large puddle of grey sludge, it suddenly errupted into flames. Zelda took a drag off the cigarette in its holder on her right hand, watching the remains of the statue evaporate.

“Well,” Hilda broke the silence as the last of the puddle burned away. “I suppose that’s that.” She began, somewhat awkwardly, to sneak out of the room around her sister. Zelda methodically exhaled a cloud of smoke before flicking the ashes of her cigarette in the swiftly shrinking puddle. Then the redhead turned on her heel and sauntered out, feeling somewhat lighter.

~~

The evening was lovely. The hall of the Academy was alive with light and sound. Candles on each wall and hovering overhead created a sophisticated and appropriately spooky embiance. Music reverberated softly through the space, somehow smoothly alternating between classical orchestrations, jazz band recordings, and modern pop songs for the younger generation.

Sabrina sat on the staircase surrounded by her schoolmates, the red silken fabric of her skirt draped over the stairs. Her mortal friends had joined the coven for the occasion, mingling with the Academy students around Sabrina. Hilda played hostess as she made her way in cheerful circles around the room to ensure that every guest was contented, the neckline of her blue dress cut just a little lower than previous dresses (at her sister’s encouragement). Zelda was every inch the High Priestess. Her fiery hair was pinned up, her dress a formal black, pointed at her shoulders and at the ends of her long sleeves, partially covering the backs of her hands. Her nails were a deep, blood red matching the jewels of her earrings and the color painting her lips. She stood in a cluster of warlocks, trading ideas on numerology, quietly pleased that things seemed to be going so well. Their guests appeared to be enjoying themselves, and Zelda felt respected, listened to, equal with the men she stood amongst. It made for a very welcome change.

The music shifted into a haunting waltz, a minor-keyed orchestration full of strings. The warlock on Zelda’s left extended an upturned hand to her, the gesture holding a certain air of ceremony. He made quite a picture with his gold suit jacket, along with gold rings on his fingers, eyes lined in the same color, and nails painted to match. So much gold laid against his dark skin created quite a striking effect. “Might I ask you for a dance, High Priestess?” he questioned with a charming smile. Zelda raised an eyebrow, almost as though she were evaluating him before replying.

“Very well,” she murmured after a moment’s pause, placing her hand in his outstretched one. He led her to the centre of the room where other dancing couples had begun to pick up the waltz tempo, and pulled her gracefully into a dance frame with a hand on her back, leaving her free hand to rest on his shoulder. As the music rose, he stepped forward and began to lead.

They were a very elegant pair, and other couples drifted to the outskirts of the dancing space to allow them more room. A number of conversations around the room fell silent as people turned to watch.

“You dance beautifully, High Priestess,” he spoke as she followed his change of direction with ease, flashing her that same lovely smile.

“Thank you, Brother Ethan. It was one of my favorite pastimes a century or two ago, I did quite a lot of it. All those marvelous European parties.”

“Oh I know just the ones, somehow the Europeans always throw superior parties. And so many handsome young men,” he added, a wry smile on his lips. Zelda gave a knowing laugh as he raised their connected arms for her to turn under, but as she spun- once, twice- the room seemed almost to tilt under her feet, and she heard the flutter of a skirt that she was not wearing, felt sharpened fingernails pricking the delicate skin of her waist. She was pulled back against the warlock, and she desperately tried to focus on his tightly curled hair, the feeling of the flat of his palm nearly between her shoulder blades, the gold edging his dark eyes, anything to remind her that this was not Faustus.

 _Breathe_ , she thought, forcing herself to keep with the rhythm of the music while everything in her screamed to run. Careful to keep her face frozen in a slight smile, she directed all of her attention to inhaling and exhaling evenly in time with the music, counting waltz time in her head. _In 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6._ Her feet followed his automatically, and she bit hard on the inside of her lip as he turned her again.

An eternity later, the music came to an end, and she returned his bow with a picture perfect curtsey. “You are truly lovely, Sister Zelda,” spoke her partner as they returned to the side of the room.

 _Zelda_ , Blackwood’s voice hissed in her mind, a cruel echo of Ethan’s friendly tone.

“Thank you for the dance, Brother Ethan,” she spoke, digging her fingernails into her palms to stop her hands from shaking. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some-something to attend to.” Without waiting for his response, she turned away from him and started across the room. She managed to keep a sensible- though swift- pace until she stepped into the empty corridor. Her strength disappeared and she broke into a run, undeterred by the height of her heels.

Swinging around the corner, she flung herself at the front doors and stumbled through them, the chilly evening air tearing into her lungs. She flew down the stone steps, no thought to where she was going, only wanting to get as far away as possible. Racing towards the railroad tracks, one foot caught behind her, and suddenly the ground rushed up to meet her, her palms skidding against rough soil and small stones tearing at the knees of her stockings. As she whipped her head around to look behind her, she saw her right shoe standing upright, its heel rooted in the earth. Her breath caught in her chest and a sob ripped from her lips, fingers digging into the dirt in an effort to find something- anything- to hold onto as memories that plagued her nightmares flooded her mind. She sank back on her knees, gasping air into her lungs while her tears left tiny dampened spots on the ground beneath her.

Every thought was disturbingly vivid- the overpowering scent of Faustus’s cologne, the sickly sweet taste of sugared tea, the sharp crack of the cat o’ nine tails against her back, pricks of pain as his sharpened fingernails tore at delicate flesh inside of her until there was blood on the sheets. The maddening knowledge that she was aware of every moment and yet powerless to stop anything.

A hand on her back startled her so that she recoiled from it with a strangled cry, her hip landing hard against the uneven earth. Half-expecting it to be Faustus standing above her, waiting to drag her back to the prison of the music box, she was somewhat bewildered to see Lilith looking down at her, an unfamiliar expression of pity on the face borrowed from Mary Wardwell. Zelda wiped furiously at her cheeks with the back of her hand in a futile attempt to compose herself.

“My Queen,” she spoke, her voice wavering. “What m-”

“I’m not here as your queen,” Lilith cut her off, kneeling beside her despite the dirt. “I could feel you. All the way down in Hell- your body, your magic in distress, your mind practically screaming. Zelda, what’s happened?”

“I-it felt… it felt like F-faustus, when he-he…” A sob bubbled up in her throat and she tried to swallow it, her head dropping in shame at such a display in front of the Queen of Hell. In front of _Lilith._

Lilith reached out a gentle hand and placed it lightly against Zelda’s head, brushing fiery hair away from her face. The witch allowed it, leaning in almost imperceptibly to her touch. Wishing to spare her High Priestess any pain she could, the demoness pulsed her magic through her hand and nudged into Zelda’s mind, carefully touching on the recollections at the forefront of her memory. Brushing up against the thoughts, Lilith could see Zelda’s remembrance of the last few minutes in the hall, and of everything she suffered at Faustus’s hand. Her lips parted as she gasped in horror, tears burning in her own eyes to match the redhead’s.

“Oh, Zelda,” she breathed, leaning forward to touch her forehead lightly to the witch’s. “As I am Queen of Hell, I promise that no man will ever hurt you like that again. And when I find Faustus Blackwood, I will drag him screaming into the Pit and I will visit on him pain as he has never known before. He will pay for what he’s done, I _promise_ you.” Lilith tilted her head up to press her lips against Zelda’s brow, sealing her vow with a kiss heated in Hellfire.

 _Hold me_ , she heard Zelda’s whispered thought as the witch bit her lip, trying fiercely to hold back tears. _Lilith, please. Please hold me._ The desperation in the redhead’s mind broke the demoness’s heart as it had not been broken in millennia. She gathered the other woman into an embrace, feeling Zelda’s arms wrap around her waist as she held her tightly. And as the witch sobbed against her chest, finally giving into tears, Lilith began to plot revenge against the man who had brought her High Priestess, trembling, to her knees.

What fun she would have with him. What _fun._


	2. Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was a one-chapter fic, but I guess I was wrong! This idea wouldn't leave me alone until I sat down and wrote it, so here it is.
> 
> Set during/just after the first episode of Part 3

Zelda had been exhausted when she had gone to bed that night. Fatigue crept in once adrenaline left, and she had been grateful for the pillow beneath her head. But now, hours later- well past the Witching Hour- she was infuriatingly awake, and stood in the darkened drawing room. A cigarette rested between her lips, waiting to be lit, but the tremor in her hands refused to pause even for the moment she needed to spark her lighter. 

She struggled with it for several more moments before flinging the lighter onto the armchair with a huff. Resorting to her back-up plan, she attempted to click her fingers together, murmuring _Ignis_ to summon a flame from her fingertip, but that plan, too, was thwarted. Her hands shook so harshly that her fingers would not give a clean snap. Snatching the unlit cigarette from her mouth, she dropped it in the ashtray with a huff, weighing her options. She could not smoke, she did not trust her hands to pour a drink without spilling half of it, and she certainly could not go back to sleep, so what in Hell's name was she supposed to do? 

An answer to her unsaid rhetorical question presented itself, though she bristled slightly at the idea. She had always prayed in moments of distress or weakness, but she had become more hesitant to offer her own personal prayers of late. It was somehow different now, knowing exactly who was able to hear her words, being able to see the face with those impressive cheekbones in her mind. While daily devotions with the coven were easily adapted to, Zelda was not quite accustomed to the idea of addressing the Queen of Hell singly, especially in the dead of night. 

But with the mere thought of going back to bed, her heart picked up speed as remnants of the dream- the _nightmare_ \- clawed at her memory. Very well then, if this was her only available option, then it would simply have to be done. With a deep breath and a few steps, Zelda sat on the rug before the empty fireplace, her legs folded beneath her. She pulled her claret kimono tighter across the gold nightgown before placing her clasped hands on her knees. 

"Hail Lilith, full of disgrace," she began in barely more than a whisper. "Cursèd are you amongst women, and cursèd is the fruit of thy womb, demons. You fled the Garden, where the weak ones dwelled, and did not live in shame. Unholy Lilith, Mother of Night, pray for us sinners, now and at the Witching Hour of our death." Another deep breath gathered the nerve she needed to come forward with the rest of the prayer, choosing her words carefully. "Lilith... I ask you to grant me strength, that I might care for the coven and for myself without fear of things past. And I ask you to grant me peace, that I might be present and focused on matters at hand instead of... distracted by memory. In your name I pray. Praise Madam Satan." She remained there on the rug for a moment, trying to shake the uncomfortable sensation of being observed that had come with speaking her words. 

"Well that was quite the prayer," a silvery voice rang out behind her, and Zelda startled at the sound. Turning to look over her shoulder, she found none other than the dark-haired demoness herself leaning against the doorframe, her unbound mane of hair falling over the shoulders of an almost indecently cut emerald robe. 

"Lilith," she nearly gasped, a hand pressing against her chest to calm her racing heart. "How long have you been standing there?" 

"Long enough. Such pretty words for me." Zelda averted her gaze, a slight flush of shame creeping into her cheeks. 

"My apologies, I didn't intend to summon you." The ginger witch rose to her feet, turning to face the other woman. 

"No apology necessary, you didn't," spoke the brunette as she sauntered further into the room. "Summon me, that is. I chose to come. It's not every evening my High Priestess whispers my name in the black of night- to what do I owe the pleasure?" Her honeyed tone sounded somewhat amused, and Zelda was not entirely sure she appreciated it. 

"It was a prayer like any other, I am certain you heard me well enough." 

"Not like any other, never like any other. Not when it comes from _you_. So tell me, my _High Priestess_ -" the pointed toe of her black stiletto passed the border of the rug- "why do you call on your Queen?" 

Zelda gave a quiet scoff, not enjoying this game. “I asked you for strength, and for peace.” 

“Why do you feel you are weak, that you require strength? What has you so restless that you ask me for peace?” Lilith was still advancing but Zelda did not back away, determined to hold her ground in her own home. 

“Well, you’re certainly the nosiest deity I’ve prayed to.” 

"Oh, I can be much nosier than that. I'm quite good at being nosy." 

"I'm sure you are." Lilith had stopped moving only when she was so close that she could have touched Zelda, and the witch was suddenly acutely aware of her lack of shoes. With herself barefoot and Lilith in heels, the demoness stood slightly taller than she did, and Zelda had to lift her chin to look her in the eye. 

"Well?" The brunette questioned, and Zelda decided definitively that no, she did not appreciate the woman's unwelcomely playful tone. "Are you going to give me answers, or will I have to pry them out of you another way?" She could have sworn she saw the demoness's eyes glance down at her lips, as though... But no, that was preposterous. She raised a hand to her forehead, sweeping hair away from her face with her index finger, trying to dismiss the thought. 

But before she could lower it again, she felt her hand caught in Lilith's. Surprised by the sudden contact, her head snapped up with an objection on her lips, but what she found banished any words from her tongue. 

"You're shaking." Any trace of Lilith's impish tone had disappeared, and in its place was pure concern. No, this was much worse than the prior teasing, Zelda concluded. She would willingly take the earlier mischievous expression rather than this being regarded as though she were a puzzle. But with Lilith's eyes searching her face for any explanation and fingers pressing just slightly where they were wrapped around her hand, Zelda almost felt inclined to let Lilith solve her. To put her together, piece by piece, working from the corners inward, to turn her scattered pieces over with her fingers as she slowly assembled a completed picture. 

Snatching her hand out of Lilith's grasp, Zelda stepped backwards, retreating. Being so near the demoness was too overwhelming, nearly unbearable. She turned away, facing the empty fireplace instead. Damn the tremor in her body, and damn that dream for putting it there. Damn her lighter for not cooperating, damn the Council for forcing her into that position, damn Faustus Blackwood and his foul pointed fingernails, damn them all to Heaven. 

Her line of thought was broken by a soft _clink_ in front of her. On the mantle, Lilith had set a glass with a heavy-handed pour of scotch. The moment she had placed it the brunette backed away, crossing the rug to make herself comfortable on the settee with her own glass. 

"Thank you," Zelda muttered, and she came to perch on the edge of the loveseat opposite, both hands steadying her drink. A tense silence blanketed the room, each woman expecting the other to speak. Zelda studied the pattern on the rug, deliberately avoiding the brunette's gaze, though she felt her eyes on her. 

Unbidden, her mind wandered to other occasions that this rug had seen her on her knees. Not terribly long ago, she had eagerly slid off of this very spot to kneel before Faustus in Unholy Confession. The rug had been rough, even through her stockings, and she had pressed her lips to his hand with those repugnant fingernails that still sent a chill down her spine. 

_Faustus_ , she had whispered reverently, and he had responded in kind. _Zelda_. And she recalled the want in his eyes before he captured her mouth in a brutal kiss, his hands seizing her ribs with such force that she had bruises from each of his fingers. Bruises to match the ones left on her neck after he had pushed her to the floor and wrapped his hand around her throat while he- 

"I can feel it, you know." Lilith's voice interrupted the experience replaying in her mind and mercifully drew her back to the present moment. When the witch looked up at her blankly, she continued in the hope that she had the ginger's attention again. "Your... energy, your aura, your magic, whatever you'd like to call it. So you needn't try to lie to me and tell me nothing's wrong." She paused to sip at her drink, waiting for a reply. But when none came, she shifted to a more direct tactic. "It has the same feeling as it did a few weeks ago, during the party at the school." 

Ah, that had struck a chord. The redhead's stoney expression had cracked just a tad, her eyes softening and a dusting of crimson colouring her cheeks before she glanced down at her glass. But still she did not speak. 

"Zelda," the brunette murmured, leaning forward in her seat. "I can't help if you won't tell me what's wrong." 

The witch raised her head, shocked at the sincerity in her voice. Across the rug crystal blue eyes looked at her imploringly, with more of a softness than she had ever seen in them before. It was that breathtaking softness that seemed to encircle and constrict her heart, and before she could plan or even stop them, words were falling from her mouth. 

"There was an intercoven meeting, with the Council, and they were expecting F-Faustus to host," she said at last, hating the way her mouth tripped over his name. "But of course he isn't here, and they have no idea what's happened with the Coven, so we... we had to glamour Hilda and have _her_ host the meeting as _him_ , so the Council wouldn't know anything is amiss." 

"You glamoured Hilda as Blackwood?" questioned the demoness, somewhat incredulous. 

Zelda nodded in affirmation. "I knew it was Hilda of course, I cast the glamour myself, but... there he was, in that office as though nothing had happened. And they called me _Lady Blackwood_ ," she hissed, the name dripping with contempt. "I could hardly have said anything to contradict them, so I just served them _cake_. There was so much else that needed attention in the moment, I hardly minded. But after they left and we came home, I realized that was the first time I've been back in his office since... since..." She searched for a fitting word but found none, so she carried on without finishing the phrase. "And in my dreams tonight, I kept seeing him sitting behind that desk, watching me pour tea and dance for him and..." 

Lilith's hold on her glass tightened as she heard Zelda's voice break, brittle with tears. She swore to herself again that if she ever got her hands on that man, she would do much worse than kill him. With a sip of scotch, she swallowed those blossoming ideas back down. 

"Everywhere I turn, there are shadows of him." The redhead whispered, her throat tight with the threat of a sob. "At the Academy, in the Church, this _very room_. And he is _always_ in my mind. A certain sound, or an ill-placed touch, and I'm... right back there with him. And I am... _so angry_. At the Council, at Faustus-" she broke off with a laugh, short and sharp. "At myself, above all else. How did I not see him for what he really is? I didn't question him, I didn't _stop_ him, I didn't _fight_ hard enough, I-" The waiting sob finally flung itself out of her throat, and she covered her mouth with her hand as though she could take back the sound. 

Lilith set her glass down hard on the nearby table. Laying aside her own ire, she stood and stepped quietly across the rug. Careful not to startle the redhead, she took the glass out of Zelda's grasp and set it to the side. The witch brought her free hand up to her face, in an effort to shield her tears from the other woman, though her shoulders betrayed her as they shivered holding back another sob. She dropped slowly to her knees in front of the redhead. 

"Zelda," she breathed, reaching out to brush her fingertips ever so lightly across the backs of the witch's hands in an unspoken request. After another shuddering breath, Zelda acquiesced and lowered her hands, removing the last barrier between herself and the demoness. 

The image of Lilith herself- First Witch, Mother of Demons, Queen of Hell- on her knees before her, emerald robe draped elegantly over her carpet, was both somehow unnerving and exhilarating. Surely it should be the other way around, the High Priestess on her knees before her Queen, and Zelda thought fleetingly about asking her to stand, but then there was a hand on her cheek, and any other thoughts were silenced. 

The demoness wiped tears from flushed skin with her thumbs and brushed fiery curls back with her fingertips before her hands both came to rest framing Zelda's face. Her touch was so gentle that the redhead's breath caught in her throat, her lips parted in an objection that faded almost before it was formed. 

" _Zelda_ ," repeated Lilith. "It is _not_ your fault." Another tear dripped from her lashes, but under Lilith's clement finger, it was gone as soon as it appeared. Her own hands sat limply in her lap, utterly forgotten. It had been far longer than she cared to think since someone had touched her with such care, and the sensation itself combined with the presence of its giver was nearly overwhelming. And Lilith looked at her with such genuine concern, and something akin to devotion, almost... almost... 

Before she let herself think about the action or its consequences, Zelda leaned forward and pressed her lips to Lilith's. She felt the demoness's slight gasp against her mouth before she kissed her back, as gentle and sweet as the hands that slid down to Zelda's jaw, fingers tentatively stroking across the skin of her neck. 

It was only her body's lack of oxygen that pulled Zelda away and she sat half frozen, eyes closed, waiting for a slap, a hex, anything to punish the action of a brazen hussy. But nothing of the sort came. Instead, she felt her jaw tilted upwards, and a tender kiss against the crown of her head. Then the hands holding her face dropped away, and her eyes fluttered open. Lilith was standing in the center of the rug, the hint of a smile catching at the corners of her mouth. 

"Try to go back to bed," she spoke, her voice still low. "You'll sleep through the night, no more dreams. I promise." And then Zelda blinked, and the demoness was gone, leaving only a thin wisp of smoke and the lingering scent of her perfume. Somewhat dazed, Zelda sat for several moments trying to collect herself before making her way back to her bedroom. 

She was halfway up the stairs when she realized that her hands were no longer shaking.


End file.
